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He can’t remember the last time he slept properly…It’s been weeks. The bags under his eyes grow more noticeable each day, as did the shortness of his temper on the training grounds. His hands were bruised from overuse and his swings against the battle dummies becoming less controlled and more of an outlet for frustration. He’d started losing duels periodically because of his lack of focus.
But he isn’t angry. He’s terrified.
It wasn’t uncommon for Tharja to go to Plegia for days at a time. To get away from the frozen climate of Regna Ferox, to thaw out for a few days, usually when he was busy off on some mission or preoccupied with a tournament. He’d never denied her that freedom. Lon’qu considered himself lucky she’d agreed to move there with him at all, knowing her dislike of the cold. She could go whenever she wanted…He’d miss her, but he wouldn’t complain. And she always came back, usually within a fortnight.
He didn’t know what she did there…Never pressed her to tell him. But after the first few departures, when she often came back more stressed than when she left, he knew it wasn’t just for vacation. She didn’t travel to Ylisse to visit the others and seek the warmth there, not unless he did as well. Plegia was always for her alone…And despite her secrecy, he didn’t question it. He assumed she either had unfinished business or simply needed time to herself in her homeland she rarely got to see.
But it’s been over a month. She’d given him no warning that she’d be gone longer than usual. She hadn’t sent any letters…why would she? He couldn’t read them anyway. No one had heard from her, no one had seen her, and he has no idea where she is. All he knew was that she was going to Plegia again…And he didn’t question it. He’d never questioned her on it. And now, he wishes he had. Asked her for something. Some estimate of when she’d be back, some vague area that she would be, some way to contact her anything. Because though he trusts her completely, though he knows how capable she is, though he respects her independence…
All he can think now is that she’s dead. Surely if she would be gone longer than expected, or if she’d decided to downright leave him altogether, she would have said something. She’d always been blunt with him. But the deafening silence of his home, the lack of blazing fires that made him sweat, the empty space in his bed that’s starting to lose the imprint of her…It’s driving him crazy. Made a wreck of him as he fears the worst more and more each day. On more than one occasion he’s prepared himself to go searching for her, only to stop in his own doorway, knowing that it’s a pointless endeavor. He can’t just search the sands aimlessly with no idea of where she is or how to find her…and he knows if he did somehow manage to find her…And she wasn’t dead or dying…especially if she was doing something important and confidential and he interrupted and ruined it…Or just made it seem like he showed up because he didn’t trust her or thought she was weak.
She might never forgive him.
So for weeks, he deals with it, albeit poorly. All he can do is hope that she’s not dead and that she’ll come back. And one night, as he sits at the table with his head down and hands clutching at the hair on the back of his head, robbed of sleep yet again…she does. The sound of the door opening immediately catches his attention, whiplash stinging his neck his head flips up so fast. And he just stares at her as she enters, frozen and wide-eyed for a moment, like he’s finally lost his mind and he’s just imagining her. She hangs her cloak at the door like she’s not been out for more than a few hours, and it isn’t until she speaks that he realizes she’s really there: “…You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Unamused, his gaze narrows, relief almost immediately morphing into frustration. “ What the hell happened ?” What took her so long to get back if she’s just acting normal about her return.
“I had things to do. It took longer than expected. That’s it.” She doesn’t seem willing to say more than that, tone curt as usual. But this time, he’s not just going to let it slide…He can’t. He stands up from where he sits, “ That’s it? It’s been over a month-”
“I know how long its been,” she interrupts, shooting him a look of warning. And he doesn’t heed it. It should be obvious what a mess he’s been, and he’s not sure he can go through this again. He doesn’t usually get angry or demanding, but it starts to slip into his tone now as he follows her. “ Tharja, you can’t put me through this…I’ve been worried for weeks, afraid that you’re hurt or dead or -”
She turns around to face him, meeting his irritation with her own. “ Or what? That I’m cheating on you? That I’m just enjoying being in Plegia more than here? That I’m too fragile to handle myself without you for more than a few days time? I can handle myself, and I am not so weak that I -”
“ I KNOW you aren’t …” he interjects, borderline shouting…but then he suddenly calms, anger giving way to pain. He knew she wasn’t cheating on him or avoiding him or that she wasn’t capable of defending herself. She’d always been the strong one…The one he trusted more than anyone…His uncharacteristic outburst at least buys him a second or two of her silence.
“ It’s not because I think you’re weak, Tharja…It’s because I’M weak …” His mood suddenly turns somber, agitation gone. He couldn’t hold onto it, not now that it had sunk in that she was alright. “ …I fear losing you more than anything…and you all but disappeared…I can tell myself how strong and capable you are day and night, but… I can’t lose you Tharja, I can’t go through that again …”
He can’t have the woman he loves die again because he couldn’t protect them…Even if she didn’t want his protection. He’s not strong enough to go through it again. His hands move to her shoulders, hovering there for a moment before he places them there…gently, not to hold her in place, but more like he’s trying to steady himself.
“ I don’t need to know what you’re doing…I don’t need to know how long you’ll be gone or who you’re with…I don’t even need to know where you are…I just need to know that you’re alright…That’s all I ask …” Just for his own peace of mind, to keep him sane when haunting memories give way to terrifying thoughts that he’s too broken to push away. He wants to make it clear that he still trusts her…he just needs some reassurance to keep his one fear at bay.
And it’s silent for a few moments, a heavy stagnant silence as he struggles to compose himself. But desperation and relief make him look rather pathetic in that moment. He doesn’t even know if there’s a magic spell of some sort that could tell him something like that, but there had to be some way he could know, a solid lifeline when he starts to worry.
Eventually, she moves, hands reaching up to his face to tilt it upward. His gaze meets hers, and the harshness from before seems to have faded. Even if he hadn’t told her every detail yet of what happened that day over fifteen years ago that had messed him up so much, she knows enough to recognize where his torment comes from. And she understands.
“Then before I leave again…I’ll find a way,” she promises, a tinge of remorse lining her voice. But it’s more than enough for him. He nods, numbly, as finally, relief rushes in. Relief that she agreed, that she understood his reasons, but most importantly…that she was back home, unscathed. Whatever kept her away so long didn’t matter anymore. He can’t even find words to thank her, or to express how much he’s missed her, or how much he loves her. So instead, his hands move to her jaw, pulling her into a firm kiss, one that still aches of some desperation, and conveys all of those feelings to her in one simple action.